House

Shall I sonnet-sing you about myself?
Do I live in a house you would like to see?
Is it scant of gear, has it store of pelf?
Unlock my heart with a sonnet-key?

Invite the world, as my betters have done?
Take notice: this building remains on view,
Its suites of reception every one,
Its private apartment and bedroom too;

For a ticket, apply to the Publisher.
No: thanking the public, I must decline.
A peep through my window, if folk prefer;
But, please you, no foot over threshold of mine!

I have mixed with a crowd and heard free talk
In a foreign land where an earthquake chanced
And a house stood gaping, naught to balk
Alans eye wherever he gazed or glanced.

The whole of the frontage shaven sheer,
The inside gaped: exposed to day,
Right and wrong and common and queer,
Bare, as the palm of your hand, it lay.

The owner? Oh, be had been crushed, no doubt!
Odd tables and chairs for a man of wealth!
What a parcel of musty old books about!
He smoked, no wonder he lost his health!

I doubt if he bathed before he dressed.
A brasier? the pagan, he burned perfumes!
You see it is proved, what the neighbors guessed:
His wife and himself had separate rooms.

Friends, the goodman of the house at least
Kept house to himself till an earthquake came:
Tis the fall of its frontage permits you feast
On the inside arrangement you praise or blame.

Outside should suffice for evidence
And whoso desires to penetrate
Deeper, must dive by the sprit-sense
No optics like yours, at any rate!

Hoity-toity! A street to explore,
Your house the exception! With this same key
Shakespeare unlocked his heart, once more!
Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!

Robert Browning

Robert Browning was an English poet and playwright whose mastery of dramatic verse, especially dramatic monologues, made him one of the foremost Victorian poets. His work was initially harshly criticized, but he gained recognition later in life. He is best known for works such as "The Ring and the Book" and "Men and Women" which exhibit his deep understanding of human character and psychological insight.

Robert Browning

Instans Tyrannus

Robert Browning, Simple Poetry

Verse-Making Was Least Of My Virtues

Robert Browning, Simple Poetry

To Edward Fitzgerald

Robert Browning, Simple Poetry

Pippa's Song

Robert Browning, Simple Poetry

English

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Youth And Art

I.
It once might have been, once only:
We lodged in a street together,
You, a sparrow on the housetop lonely,
I, a lone she-bird of his feather.

II.
Your trade was with sticks and clay,
You thumbed, thrust, patted and polished,
Then laughed They will see some day
Smith made, and Gibson demolished.

III.
My business was song, song, song;
I chirped, cheeped, trilled and twittered,
Kate Browns on the boards ere long,
And Grisis existence embittered!

IV.
I earned no more by a warble
Than you by a sketch in plaster;
You wanted a piece of marble,
I needed a music-master.

V.
We studied hard in our styles,
Chipped each at a crust like Hindoos,
For air looked out on the tiles,
For fun watched each oth...

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At The Mermaid

The figure that thou here seest . . . Tut!
Was it for gentle Shakespeare put?
- B. JORSON. (Adapted.)



I next poet? No, my hearties,
I nor am nor fain would be!
Choose your chiefs and pick your parties,
Not one soul revolt to me!
I, forsooth, sow song-sedition?
I, a schism in verse provoke?
I, blown up by bards ambition,
Burst, your bubble-king? You joke.

Come, be grave! The sherris mantling
Still about each mouth, mayhap,
Breeds you insight, just a scantling,
Brings me truth out, just a scrap.
Look and tell me! Written, spoken,
Heres my life-long work: and where
Wheres your warrant or my token
Im the dead kings son and heir?

Heres my work: does work discover,
What was rest from work, my life?

Robert Browning

How It Strikes A Contemporary

I only knew one poet in my life:
And this, or something like it, was his way.

You saw go up and down Valladolid,
A man of mark, to know next time you saw.
His very serviceable suit of black
Was courtly once and conscientious still,
And many might have worn it, though none did:
The cloak that somewhat shone and shewed the threads
Had purpose, and the ruff, significance.
He walked and tapped the pavement with his cane,
Scenting the world, looking it full in face,
An old dog, bald and blindish, at his heels.
They turned up, now, the alley by the church,
That leads no whither; now, they breathed themselves
On the main promenade just at the wrong time.
Youd come upon his scrutinising hat,
Making a peaked shade blacker than itself
Against the single wind...

Robert Browning

A Likeness

Some people hang portraits up
In a room where they dine or sup:
And the wife clinks tea-things under,
And her cousin, he stirs his cup,
Asks Who was the lady, I wonder?
T is a daub John bought at a sale,
Quoth the wife, looks black as thunder:
What a shade beneath her nose!
Snuff-taking, I suppose,
Adds the cousin, while Johns corns ail.

Or else, there s no wife in the case,
But the portrait s queen of the place,
Alone mid the other spoils
Of youth, masks, gloves and foils,
And pipe-sticks, rose, cherry-tree, jasmine,
And the long whip, the tandem-lasher,
And the cast from a fist (not, alas! mine,
But my masters, the Tipton Slasher),
And the cards where pistol-balls mark ace,
And a satin shoe used for cigar-case,
And th...

Robert Browning

Shop

So, friend, your shop was all your house!
Its front, astonishing the street,
Invited view from man and mouse
To what diversity of treat
Behind its glass, the single sheet!

What gimcracks, genuine Japanese:
Gape-jaw and goggle-eye, the frog;
Dragons, owls, monkeys, beetles, geese;
Some crush-nosed human-hearted dog:
Queer names, too, such a catalogue!

I thought And he who owns the wealth
Which blocks the windows vastitude,
Ah, could I peep at him by stealth
Behind his ware, pass shop, intrude
On house itself, what scenes were viewed!

If wide and showy thus the shop,
What must the habitation prove?
The true house with no name a-top,
The mansion, distant one remove,
Once get him off his traffic-groove!

Pictures he l...

Robert Browning

Dîs Aliter Visum; Or, Le Byron De Nos Jours

I.
Stop, let me have the truth of that!
Is that all true? I say, the day
Ten years ago when both of us
Met on a morning, friends as thus
We meet this evening, friends or what?

II.
Did you because I took your arm
And sillily smiled, A mass of brass
That sea looks, blazing underneath!
While up the cliff-road edged with heath,
We took the turns nor came to harm

III.
Did you consider Now makes twice
That I have seen her, walked and talked
With this poor pretty thoughtful thing,
Whose worth I weigh: she tries to sing;
Draws, hopes in time the eye grows nice;

IV.
Reads verse and thinks she understands;
Loves all, at any rate, thats great,
Good, beautiful; but much as we
Down at the bath-house love the sea,<...

Robert Browning